


Lessons of Love

by Tedronai



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M, Main Scenario Quests, post "In the Eyes of Gods and Men"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 21:05:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3825043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tedronai/pseuds/Tedronai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because who wasn't at least a little in love with Haurchefant Fortemps?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons of Love

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going through the main quest for the second time, this time with full appreciation of Lord Haurchefant from the start, and after the scene at Witchdrop I just had to write this. You'll notice that the adventurer has no name or much description. That's because I didn't want to insert my in-game character into this; the main quest is not exactly a thing that happens to him IC so it didn't feel appropriate. And I didn't want to just make up a specific character for the purposes of this fic. I may do that if I end up writing more around the main story, but we'll see.
> 
> (Excuse the cheesy-ass title, oh gosh.)

The procession that returned to Camp Dragonhead should not have been such a sobering sight, Corentiaux reflected as he watched their approach from atop the northern wall. For a long, frozen moment he feared that the worst had happened, that the adventurer had been late to stop the trial, but as the group came closer, he could see the last rays of the setting sun reflected on a head of golden hair that could only belong to Lord Francel, and Corentiaux sighed in relief. Yet everything was obviously not right, he could see it in the Inquisitor’s stiff posture, in the stubborn set to Lord Haurchefant’s shoulders, in the grim cast to the foreign hero’s stoic face. The rescue may have been a success, but it had not gone smoothly.

Descending to the courtyard, Corentiaux reached the group just in time to hear young Francel protesting that he should return to Skyfire Locks right away. Off to one side, Inquisitor Guillaume was speaking to Inquisitor Brigie in a low voice, and whatever it was that he said seemed to shock her to the core, although she recovered quickly, schooling her face to cool impassiveness as she cast an unreadable look towards the two lords and the adventurer.

“You’re not going anywhere tonight,” Haurchefant said to Francel, his voice firm but not unkind. “If you insist, I will send a messenger to let your people know you’re alright, but you’ve been through enough today.” He noticed Corentiaux and waved him over. “Have a room prepared for Lord Francel, he’ll be staying the night.”

“Yes, my lord.”

 

The dinner was a solemn affair. The Inquisitors kept to themselves at one end of the table in the great hall, while Haurchefant, Francel, Hourlinet, the adventurer and Corentiaux occupied the other end. The tension of the past days, culminated mere hours ago at Witchdrop, was only beginning to unravel, leaving everybody exhausted. Few words were exchanged, but perhaps right now words weren’t needed. The experiences of this day would surely turn into a story soon enough, but for now, the companionable silence was enough.

The Inquisitors took their leave as soon as they were done eating, and with their absence the atmosphere in the hall grew several degrees more relaxed. Nobody else seemed to want to retire for the night; the comfort of being around those who had shared the experience won over the desire for sleep. Haurchefant had mulled wine brought in, and soon the silence was taken over by light conversation.

“My lord,” one of the other knights spoke up after a while, “I cannot help but notice that Inquisitor Guillaume returned short a knight. Will you tell us what befell at Witchdrop? What became of the missing knight?”

The conversation died. Haurchefant looked at the knight who had spoken, then at Francel and Hourlinet, finally at the adventurer who had played such a crucial role in saving the day. Finally, he chuckled. “Now that is a tale both tragic and epic, one that I can scarce do justice in mere words,” he began, “but I shall do my very best!”

And he launched into the story of how he had ridden hell-for-leather to Witchdrop, hoping and praying that he was not too late, only to find the adventurer and Hourlinet heroically holding their own against more than twice their number of the Inquisitor’s knights. “And as though that was not enough, as though it was not heartbreaking beyond belief to see Ishgardian steel bared against mine own men and allies, the worst was yet to come! At the heretic knight’s call, a great wyvern came flying, and its cry was enough to curdle the blood of the most courageous of men!” Haurchefant had jumped to his feet and was gesticulating wildly as he recounted the tale, as though acting out the events of the battle, to the great delight of everybody present.

As the story progressed to the battle against the wyvern, Corentiaux turned to the adventurer, who was listening in silence with a hint of a smile on his lips. “So, how close is this epic to what actually happened?”

The man glanced at Corentiaux and the smile grew a fraction. “You would doubt your lord’s word?” he enquired, but there was no challenge in his tone, just good-natured humour.

“Not in so many words,” Corentiaux replied in kind. “I just happen to know Lord Haurchefant, for more years than I care to count, and suffice to say that had he not been born an Ishgardian lord, he would have probably found his calling as a wandering minstrel or something of the sort. And I say this with nothing but respect and deepest admiration, lest you think I’m making fun of him,” he added at the other man’s incredulous look. “I merely mean that he knows how to entertain a crowd, and he enjoys it. And while at it, he has a tendency to make everybody else sound like the heroes of the tale while downplaying his own contribution.”

“Yes,” the adventurer said, turning his attention back to Haurchefant, his voice distant and thoughtful. “I see what you mean. A rare quality in a man of his status, I should imagine.” Corentiaux was about to agree, but before he could speak up, the other man spoke again. “Forgive me if I’m being too forward, but you’re… fond of him, aren’t you?”

Fond? Corentiaux nearly laughed at the magnitude of the understatement. “That I am,” he replied. “And if I’m judging that look in your eyes correctly, so are you.” He had lost track of the battle being played out, now with an added steak knife that Haurchefant was using to stab the air, but it appeared to be nearing its climax. “And if that’s the case,” he continued, “allow me to give you a piece of advice.” The look on the adventurer’s face turned wary, and Corentiaux shook his head with a wry smile. “No, not that kind of advice; I’m not going to fly into a jealous rage over his affections. My advice is to enjoy your time with him but don’t expect to make him yours.” If there were rules to being in love with Haurchefant Fortemps, that was surely the first and foremost.

Confusion clouded the adventurer’s eyes as he looked at Corentiaux again. “You mean he’s not big on commitments?”

Corentiaux shook his head, swallowing a sharp retort. “No, that’s not what I mean at all,” he said. “He may be free with his affections, but he’s always genuine. He cares, deeply, and for more than just one person at a time. So if you’re a jealous type, you may want to save us all the trouble and decline when he invites you to his chamber tonight.” The look of utter shock on the other man’s face was worth several potentially awkward conversations, Corentiaux reflected, barely suppressing a smile.

“You… How do you know he’s going to..?” Then suspicion dawned in the adventurer’s eyes. “You’re not just having a laugh, are you? This is not some kind of an elaborate joke?”

“Not a joke,” Corentiaux replied, a touch coolly. “Like I said, I happen to know Lord Haurchefant.”

“I… see.” The other man appeared suitably abashed, and Corentiaux found that he couldn’t stay annoyed at him. “Forgive me for doubting you,” the adventurer continued. His gaze strayed back to Haurchefant, who had finished his tale to a round of roaring applause and was quickly draining a cup of wine. “He is an exceptional man, your Lord Haurchefant,” he said softly. “I believe… I would be honoured to share with him what little time I can.”

Corentiaux nodded. “I wish you well, adventurer.”

 

Soon after that, people began to leave the great hall. Corentiaux waited until most of them were gone, until Haurchefant stood up to leave, before approaching the lord. “A word, my lord.”

“Yes?” Haurchefant turned to him with a small smile. His eyes, Corentiaux reflected, might be the colour of the sky on a crisp winter morning, but right now there was nothing cold about them.

“Once they find their missing airship, they’ll be gone,” Corentiaux said quietly. “He may never come back. I’d tell you not to get too attached, but…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to; Haurchefant knew him at least as well as he knew the lord, and this was not the first time a conversation of this sort had been played out between them.

“I know, my friend,” Haurchefant replied. “I know.” He clasped Corentiaux’s shoulder briefly. “But it is as the poets say; ‘it is better to have loved and lost…’”

Looking into those impossibly blue eyes, Corentiaux believed him. “And if you love something,” he said, the words forming as though of their own accord, “you set it free.”

Haurchefant nodded. “One of the hardest lessons of love, and one of the most important.” Then he smiled again. “I must not keep our hero waiting,” he said. “But remind me to continue this conversation once this business with the airship is over and done with.”

“I shall.” They both knew no reminder would be necessary. “Go to your adventurer, Haurchefant. I’ll be here.” And as he watched Haurchefant walk away, he couldn’t help but smile. He was so lucky to have Haurchefant in his life. They all were.


End file.
